Shattered
by Pureauthor
Summary: /FE8/ When your whole world has been shattered, how do you go about picking up the pieces? Franz and Amelia centric.
1. Shattered

Shattered

* * *

Is this a darkfic? I suppose one could look at it that way. Anyway, this story has been kicking around in my mind for the longest time, but what really gave it shape was a conversation in the Fire Emblem Writer's Guild forum about the psychological impact and consequences of being raped.

Hence, this story. I'm not an authority on rape in any sense of the word. I can't promise anything I write in here will bear a good correlation with what would actually happen were an equivalent situation to occur in real life.

I own nothing, and I do not profit materially from the creation of this work.

* * *

_My vagina was green, water soft pink fields, cow mooing, sun resting, sweet boyfriend touching lightly with soft piece of blonde straw._

_There is something between my legs. I do not know what it is. I do not know where it is. I do not touch. Not now. Not anymore. Not since._

– Extract from The Vagina Monologues by Eve Ensler

* * *

As battles go, it wasn't a particularly remarkable one.

An ambush by Grad soldiers in the middle of the forest was liable to completely disrupt the schedule laid down by Prince Ephraim. At the least, there probably weren't going to reach the palace of Rausten by nightfall as planned.

The standard tactics for fighting in forest terrain quickly came into play – the Allied forces moved through the woods as speedily as could be expected, extra guards posted around the vulnerable sections of the caravan such as the supply line. Archers, and those with keener vision kept a constant lookout. For their part, the Grad troops attacked quickly and suddenly, melding back into the undergrowth after a sudden, surprise strike.

Standard offensive maneuvers, standard defensive maneuvers. As battles go, it wasn't a particularly remarkable one.

Blood coated Amelia, once-knight-of-Grado-now-soldier-of-Renais, as she rode through the melee astride a snorting warhorse. Combat was almost always a messy business, and today was proving no exception. Every time she brought the heavy point of her lance down upon another foe's head, chest or shoulder, a fresh spurt of blood would spray out, further adding to the patchwork of maroon and crimson that so coated the cavalier and her steed. Offhand, she wondered how much of it had found its way onto her face – not that it mattered too much, she supposed.

In the few moments that she was given a slight reprieve from fighting desperately for her life, she mused on the fact that what she really, _really_ wanted was a nice, warm bath – in and of itself a rarity in these situations, unfortunately.

Another flash of steel, another jerk of her muscles to dodge the killing blow, and another sweep of her weapon to unseat her latest opponent. Giving the fallen soldier nary another thought, she turned and continued fighting.

After an ill-timed strike that had gone badly for the Grado forces, Ephraim had dispatched a small group to hunt this particular cell down. They had swiftly overtaken the fleeing Grad soldiers, and now the area was filled with cries of surprise, anger, and pain.

Abruptly, the soldier she'd knocked down lurched to his feet. As she swung around to face him, he hurled a dagger straight at her face. Sheer reflexes – throwing all her weight to the side at the last instant – resulted in the dagger flying harmlessly past, and in her managing to unseat herself from her steed. Dropping into a roll as she came up in order to convert the momentum of her fall into energy she could use to get to her feet, she struck at the soldier, the sum result of her three – second ordeal a further spray of blood covering her face and chest, as well as a good bit of a headache.

That had certainly been an unexpected event – but battles were like that. Battles themselves seemed almost living, breathing things, seething with endless movement, sharp exhales and inhales, surging and ebbing, always morphing, always shifting. In situations like these, the unexpected became inevitable.

No, as far as battles went, this wasn't a particularly remarkable one.

Wearily, Amelia shifted the grip on her lance and sought her steed. From the patches of sunlight that filtered down through the canopy, she caught a flash of mottled brown in between the flashes of verdant green. With a sigh, Amelia started out for it.

She got two steps before another Grad soldier marked her as an easy target and charged her. She shifted slightly and lashed out with her foot, sending him tumbling to the forest floor.

More resilient than to be taken out of the fight quite so quickly, the soldier stumbled to his feet, drawing a sword. Tightening her grip on her lance, Amelia shifted her position as well, trying to ensure that no one was suddenly going to leap at her from behind.

Then he charged, bringing his sword up low so as to ensure that he could still adequately defend himself. Judging the strike, Amelia shifted once more, bringing up her bloody lance in an effort to strike at her opponent's neck-

"Ah!" A surge of pain blasted its way through her leg and she tumbled. Risking a split-second glance behind her, her eyes widened as she an arrow protruding from the back of her calf. An archer, somewhere, had singled her out as a target…

Snapped back to the immediacy of her predicament by the hoarse yell of her opponent, she caught sight of him raising his blade high in the air, and with instantly she brought up her lance, parrying the blow.

As the Grad soldier stumbled, Amelia's hand grasped the dagger tucked away in her belt. Before her foe had a chance to recover, the blade was plunged deep into his belly, leaving yet more dark blood splashed over the young cavalier's face.

Wearily, Amelia tried to pull herself to her feet, using her lance as a crutch. It worked – barely. As long as she didn't put any weight on her bad leg at all…

Her instincts suddenly screamed at her of danger, and she whirled around. But her wound slowed her reaction time to just a hair too long.

Struck on the head by an incredible force, Amelia was unconscious before she hit the ground.

* * *

Decapitation was a messy business. Blood had a tendency to spray everywhere – and he meant _everywhere_. Not to mention that the head could bounce off and roll away to who-knows-where, which made identifying the body (on the rather rare occasions where it _needed_ to be identified in the first place) a troublesome task.

Franz stepped back from the corpse of his opponent, wiping some of the still-wet blood from his face with his sleeve. All around him, the rest of the soldiers were finishing up from the remains of their skirmish, marching off those taken prisoner and trying to find if there was anything that could be salvaged.

Returning his blade to its sheathe, he stepped forward, whistling for his steed to come to him. It trotted over, lowering its head and obviously requesting some gesture of affection from its owner. Franz relented, silently running his hand along her glossy mane.

Abruptly he caught sight of another horse – one he recognized as Amelia's. With a tiny smile, he walked over to it, casting around for her so he could reunite the two.

The smile slowly faded as he quickly realized that Amelia was nowhere to be seen.

A cursory examination of the battlefield revealed that she wasn't around – at least, he couldn't spot her distinctive crimson armour anywhere in the area.

Of course there was always the chance that she was now lying concealed behind a bush or tree, bleeding the last of her life away…

He realized that the others were calling his name, admonishing him to hurry up and join up with the people returning to the main party. He spared them but a glance before he turned and headed deeper into the undergrowth, peering intently at each of the broken bodies that were strewn about the forest floor.

* * *

They say that it's really all about power. About having someone at your complete mercy. About being able to reach in and tear from them what they consider most precious. About being able to remind them that everything – _everything_ is open to them, and that they can claim it anytime they so wish.

Amelia wasn't sure how long she had lain asleep – what she knew was that she would have preferred to remain unconscious throughout the whole ordeal. But of course that was something that they would never allow her. Their entire purpose was to break her, after all.

She jerked upright – or as much as her bonds allowed her to. For a moment the world swam around her, accompanied by a dull pounding sensation at the back of her head. As the world shifted back into focus, she quickly glanced around. Standing in a loose circle around her were three Grado soldiers standing around her, unpleasant smiles on their faces.

"Awake at last, princess?" The largest of the three sneered down at her. "Took you long enough. One little tap on the head and you're out like a candle in a storm."

For some reason, she was having difficulty forming a coherent response. This obviously annoyed the speaker, for he lashed out with her foot.

The instant his foot hit her leg, Amelia gasped as a fiery wave of pain lanced up her leg. Of course – the arrow wound. If she strained her neck she could barely catch a glimpse of the ragged, torn flesh.

Off to the side, at the edge of the clearing, she caught sight of the arrow, yanked carelessly from her body and tossed onto the dirt. Then she noticed also that she had been stripped of her armour, the metal plates dumped into a careless pile. Further, she was tied down such that her arms and legs had been spread wide apart, and that she could gain no leverage with them.

A cold knot of fear twisted itself in her stomach. "What are you going to do with me?"

One of the soldiers stared down at her and laughed. "Why do you ask, Amelia?"

Her eyes widened. How did he-? Then, recognition.

"Arvis!" She sputtered. One of her fellow recruits back in the Grado barracks…

"Yes, imagine my surprise in finding out that the little girl of our squad had deserted to the enemy. What's more, you've become so very efficient at killing Grad soldiers, haven't you, Amelia?"

She closed her eyes, not wanting to hear the words. What Grado was doing was wrong – her convictions still stood. But the undeniable fact was that she had betrayed her country and had fought against them.

A scrap of memory made its way into her mind. An image. "You…" she whispered. "You were the one who ambushed me."

"Correct. Oh, you don't know how undecided I was. I wanted to cut out your throat then and there. But something stayed my hand. Killing you as you lay asleep just didn't seem _fair_. Not after all you've done to us."

Subconsciously, her breathing quickened. No… he wasn't talking about…

"The battle's long over by now, you know. Your precious friends from Renais have left you in their dust. How's it feel to know that _you're_ the one being thrown away now? Was it worth it, Amelia?" His face twisted into an ugly snarl. "Was it worth it, _traitor_?"

Quickly, he walked over and crouched just beside her head. Suddenly, she felt a dagger pressed against her neck.

"It would be so very easy to draw this across your throat." The voice was silky with menace as the knife traced itself lightly across the bare skin of her neck. "_Too_ easy, in fact. I've no intention of letting you get off so lightly." The dagger went away, presumably to be tucked back into Arvis' belt.

Amelia was panting now, trembling violently, her heart thumping against her chest. They wouldn't – they _couldn't_-

Then she felt rough, scrabbling fingers reaching for her belt, and she jerked away – or at least she tried. The ropes held her fast.

_No, no there. Anywhere but there. No please, don't let this happen, oh god oh God help me_

"You… you wouldn't…" She said softly, staring pleadingly at Arvis.

"Why not?" His voice was smooth as he leaned over. "It's no more than you deserve, Amelia. You left us. You left _me._" As he spoke, he moved closer and closer, until his face was right in front of her.

"What… are you… _talking_ about?" Amelia snapped as she tried to twist away, away from him, away from the other two who were tearing at all that protected her womanhood from the world.

"You mean to tell me you never noticed?" Arvis continued softly as he reached up to stroke her neck. "Of course you wouldn't. Self-centred, stuck up little girl that you were, always trying to become best in the platoon, in the division, in the entire army. No time for your equals, eh?"

"You're insane." She snapped, mind racing frantically. There had to be _some_ way to get herself out of this nightmare, some way to escape, to turn things around…

"Oh, _am_ I." Arvis smiled and leaned in close enough to kiss her on her still grimy cheek. Instinctively, Amelia recoiled. His smile merely widened. "If I am, indeed, insane, it's only because you drove to me. So bright, so energetic and eager. With that ready smile and infectious laugh of yours…" Slowly, he moved downwards, kissing her neck, his gentle, measured touches in such sharp contrast to the clumsy fumblings around her nether region.

Gathering up and swallowing as much of her pride as she could bear, she stared right at Arvis. "Don't do this, Arvis. I'll give you anything you want, just don't _do this_." Raw fear gnawed at her being, making her buck her hips, making her struggle and squirm helplessly in place. She had never felt so utterly powerless as she did at that instant.

"Anything I want?" A low, deep chuckle in her throat. "But, Amelia, I want to see you humiliated. Broken. Defeated. Crushed. We're not doing this –" and he gestured to his compatriots. "Because we think that you're some perfect specimen, you know. This is punishment. And when this is over, I will see you dead."

Any retort that might have been formed on Amelia's lips died as she felt something invade her, tearing through the walls of her inner sanctum. A crude mix between a moan of anguish and a scream of pain exploded from her lips – until she felt herself silenced by the hard press of lips against hers. Arvis. Arvis! _**Arvis!**_

She wrenched free, spitting away the filth, her rage eclipsing her fear for the barest moment. "I'll kill you!" She raged. "I'll kill you!"

Arvis made no verbal reply, merely a thin-lipped smile that told her everything she needed to know. Then slowly, deliberately, he reached down to and began undoing the clasps on her tunic.

She didn't know how long she was trapped there as the three beasts… _creatures_ continued to violate her, stabbing deep into her core. Tears ran hot down her mud and blood streaked cheeks.

She howled death threats, cried for them to show mercy, and as her strained will and resolve began to fail her, whimpered softly for help from someone – anyone. None of it mattered. She was a conquest – and they would claim her. Sensation coursed through her body – nothing pleasant, nothing desirable. Just rage and shame.

Eventually an innate survival mechanism kicked in – she shut herself down, refusing to allow herself to feel. In such a manner the experience became, if not _bearable_, then she was, at the least, able to survive. Even when Arvis squatted in front of her, thrusting violently into her mouth so that she gagged and choked, the image of her biting down, teeth scissoring through flesh briefly swam through her mind, but even then her resolve and steel had been so thoroughly beaten that all she could do was squeeze her eyes, tasting that strange cloying sensation, and abruptly a spurt of sour-saltiness that left her gagging and choking.

"Good little whore, aren't you?" Arvis smirked, breathing heavily. Amelia merely stared up at him silently, fighting to get air in her lungs.

And at last, when she knew she could endure no further – when she would gladly have welcomed a quick, easy death were it available, she became dimly aware that their ministrations on her ravaged body had stopped.

Then she felt a rough hand on her chin, jerking her so that she stared up into the face of her captor and tormentor. "How does it feel, Amelia?"

She felt defiled. Dirty. Unclean. She wanted to clean herself. If she'd been allowed to she would've scrubbed at herself, at her womanhood, rubbing and rubbing until the caked filth was all washed away.

"How does it feel to be broken," Arvis taunted her relentlessly. "To have been conquered? What happened to your spirit, those death threats, eh? If I cut you loose and gave you a weapon, would you stand and fight us? No, of course not. You're so weak and pathetic that-"

"You _**MONSTERS!**_" The cry was barely human. From the trees the small dark form of Franz exploded, blade already flashing down to carve deep into the back of one of the Grad soldiers who had been caught unawares.

As the other rose to a standing position, fumbling for his weapon, Franz stepped forward, running his foe through with his sword, twisting it and cutting open his belly.

As he jerked the sword out and let the innards spill out onto the cool earth, Franz turned to face Arvis, the last standing Grad soldier in the vicinity, eyes alight with a dark rage. The soldier seemed to know on some instinctual level that he would be no match for the berserk knight and so he turned to run.

In a moment, Franz had caught him, slamming him up against the rough bark of a tree. Arvis opened his mouth to scream and as he did so Franz slashed open his throat, once, twice, and on the third swing he tore Arvis' head clean off, letting a vomit of dark blood spray over his chestplate and tunic.

The headless cadaver slumped over, flopping limply to the ground.

* * *

As the last of the corpses fell to the ground, Franz turned to Amelia. The sight of her pale, nearly naked form spread-eagled helplessly on the rough ground caused his heart to rise to his throat.

"Oh, Amelia, Amelia…" Rushing over, he drew his knife, cutting through the bonds that held her fast. _What have they done to you?_

_If only…_ Her right arm was freed – instinctively she brought it close to herself, almost hugging her body as she sought protection. _If only I'd found you sooner, I could've – I could've done something. I could have stopped all this from happening…_ The left arm. Now Amelia _did_ hug herself, shivering.

As soon as Amelia was freed of her restraints she curled into a tight ball. Slowly, hesitantly, he walked up to her. "Amelia?" He whispered softly. There was only a soft whimper.

Hesitantly, he reached out a shaking hand, laying it on her shoulder. "Amelia… it's me. It's Franz. It's all right now."

* * *

She felt the touch on her shoulder and flinched away at it. "It's me. It's Franz. It's all right now."

Franz…? Franz! Her tears blurred her vision, making it impossible to look at him clearly.

Franz was all right. Franz was safe. He was… he was a friend. He wouldn't hurt her.

Franz… suddenly she reached up, clutching at his arm, holding him as close to her as she could. "Franz…" She whispered.

"It's all right," he whispered into her ear, and she heard and so desperately wanted to believe it. "It's all right."

Silently he gathered up the tattered rags that had formerly been her clothes – now completely torn up by the soldiers, of course, but still better than nothing.

Then he picked her up, and began to walk.

She didn't know how long they continued like that, her head full of knotted hair and grime and blood and tears resting in the crook of his strong arms. The two of them carried on as the fiery red of the evening extinguished itself, plunging the forest into shades of blue and grey.

As they finally returned to the camp, Franz quietly circumvented the crowded areas where the campfires were, avoiding any inquisitive stares. Near the back of the campsite, he lay Amelia down in a set of rough pallets.

"Wait here." He said softly.

As he turned and began to walk off, Amelia clutched her rags close to herself, willing her breathing not to quicken, and her heart to stop hammering. After an endless moment he returned, carrying a bucket filled with water, some cleaning rags, and a sponge. Silently, he pulled a vulnerary from his pack, splashing the contents on the fiery wound on her leg and staunching the bleeding.

Dipping the sponge into the water, he brought it out again, "Stand up," was all he said. And she did, letting herself be stripped of the torn rags that were her clothes. Then he brought the sponge up to her back, letting the warm water run down her back as he slowly began to clean her. The tiny rivulets of water trickled down her thighs and calves and feet, coming to rest in tiny pools on the cold earth.

She wanted to grab the sponge and scrub it along her own skin, rubbing and rubbing until the dirt and defilement was ripped off, forever, and she could return to the purity and light she remembered, but she didn't, she just sat there, letting Franz continue to wash her, letting the dirt and filth and blood mix together with the water and running off into the ground, buried forever, never to come back.

Slowly, silently, he continued to wash and cleanse her entire body, working on her neck, her face, her chest, her arms and stomach and legs, until at last he was at her womanhood, her core, her inner sanctum, where it had been ransacked and ravaged and violated and…

"Amelia?" Franz said softly. '_Will you let me?'_ was the unspoken question in his eyes.

Slowly, hesitantly, she nodded once.

* * *

As he looked at it, he failed to keep the wince from his face at the sight of her flesh, raw and bleeding.

Knowing that no matter how gentle he was, he was still going to hurt her, he steeled himself and reached down, working around the outer edges, at the rough pubic hair, cleansing it of dried blood and semen, draining it dry.

Finally, as he began working at her nether lips itself, he heard her hiss sharply. He loved her too much to stop, and so he continued, washing out the dirt and shame.

At last, he stood, handing her a towel. "I brought you some fresh clothes." He said, indicating a pile off to the side.

Finally, she was dry and clothed, and the two of them stared at each other. Franz nodded, paused. "You… you can sleep in my tent tonight." _Prince Ephraim would understand. I'll explain to him later._

He settled himself down by the entrance, staring out at the darkening sky. Behind him, Amelia murmured softly. Reaching down, he grasped her hand in his.

"I won't leave you. I promise."

"Mh." Was that a note of consent? A semi-delirious mumble of one falling into slumber? Franz couldn't tell.

As the night fell and universe whirled around them, he sat there, grasping her hand, staring at the sky.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review. 


	2. Reconstruction

Shattered

* * *

And this, naturally, marks the second half of the two part story 'Shattered'. I hope I've written this to your liking.

I do not anything, and do not profit materially from this work.

* * *

Sunlight bathed the chapel in an ethereal haze as the door at its far end creaked open slightly, allowing a single figure to enter the place.

Wearily, Franz stumbled forward to the foremost of the pews, whereupon he settled himself down on the sturdy wood of the bench, burying his head in his hands. A long, low sigh escaped from this throat as he sat there for an eternal instant, pondering, wondering, doubting.

"Franz?" The voice was soft, gentle, questioning. Raising his head, he smiled a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

"Sister Natasha. It's good to see you."

She smiled and smoothed out her robes. Normally pristine white, in the quiet glow of the sun-bathed chapel they shone in wondrous hues of yellow, orange, and gold. "It's good to see you too, Franz. Are you… have you come to seek guidance?"

His smile tightened and he hung his head again. "I suppose," he said softly, and offered nothing more.

"…" Natasha crouched down in front of Franz, laying a hand on his lap. Her sapphire eyes, shining with concern, gazed into his dull green ones. "It's Amelia, isn't it?"

Franz didn't reply immediately. He just closed his eyes, sighing yet again. "It's been three months since the – the incident." His voice faltered slightly. "I don't know what she went through, Natasha. None of us can. But I just assumed that she'd have… I don't know, bounced back by now. Or _something_."

Natasha paused. "Well, she _has_ become better, hasn't she? At first she was too shaken to even participate in the battle at Rausten Palace. But she recovered enough to help us fight in Darkling Woods."

"Yes, I guess so, but…" Franz shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "She's… she's nothing like the Amelia I _used_ to know. Back then, she always had a smile on her face, an encouraging word for others. Now, she just… sits and stares."

"Rape is…" Natasha stood and sat down next to Franz. "Franz, you have to understand. We feel… invaded when we get raped. Amelia's emotional state is in turmoil. It's been in turmoil ever since that day. She needs someone strong to support her." She smiled at Franz. "She needs you to support her."

"I know – I've been trying my best, Natasha, but," his frown deepened. "It's… exhausting, you know? Having to be strong enough for the both of us."

Silence descended upon the chapel once more, two friends sitting side by side. Then Franz shook his head and spoke up once more.

"It's not like I expect Amelia to just wake up tomorrow and it's all sunshine and flowers again. But I want… I'd like some sign that she's pulling herself together. Finding herself again. I don't ask for an immediate recovery – but the promise of an eventual one would be nice."

Natasha, sitting beside him, nodded and smiled sadly. "I know what you mean."

* * *

Her eyes snapped open and her body jerked wildly for an instant. Quick darting glances around the darkened room assured her – she was still in Castle Renais. She was safe.

A nightmare – that's all. It had been nothing but a nightmare.

There had been nothing _but_ nightmares.

Gasping for breath, she lifted an arm to her face, wiping at the sheen of sweat that had appeared during the course of the night. Fumbling about in the semidarkness, she grabbed her skin of water, swallowing thirstily as she shifted her body into a sitting position.

Her heart was pumping like a jackhammer, sending adrenaline surging through her body. Hunching over, she closed her eyes, taking deep, steady breaths, trying to calm her body down.

Subconsciously she grabbed her blanket, throwing it over herself and hugging it tighter, as if trying to form a shell between herself and the rest of the world. And as she did so, she writhed silently, inside.

_Pull yourself together, Amelia._ A hollow command. She'd been trying to pull herself together ever since that day. And of course, nothing had come of it.

Just then, the door to her room scraped open softly, and Franz stepped inside, a satchel slung over one arm, his head hung low so that Amelia could not see the expression on it.

As he glanced up and noticed Amelia, she thought – _thought_ – that his face had registered surprise for a split-second before rearranging itself into a smile.

"Oh, you're up already?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"I got you some breakfast. Try to eat a bit more this time, okay? I know you don't have much appetite, but… your body still needs it."

Another nod, and she reached with an outstretched hand to receive the hunk of bread from Franz. She didn't move from her position on the bed as she mechanically nibbled at it. Crumbs fell from her lip and chin, scattering across the soft material.

Franz would clean up after her later. He always did.

Just like he always brought her meals to her, visited her daily, did all he could to cheer her up and to forget that day, that incident, that horrible…

It was only when she glanced down that she realized she had crushed the bread in her hand into a grotesque, misshapen form. Another deep breath, another attempt to calm herself.

Slowly, she brought the bread to her lips and began to eat again.

* * *

Amelia slowly shuffled along the perimeter of the light-drenched courtyard, gazing with subdued eyes at her own feet.

All around her, the place swirled with activity. People working, training, shouting, coming, going. All with a purpose. All with intent. All with clarity in their eyes and sureness in their step.

So why not her? Why was she still confined to stare at the world from within a fog, forced down into the methodically shuffling forward, putting one foot ahead of the other to move forward? Why couldn't her demons leave her be – one day, one night, one _hour_, at least. Just let her be free of the torment, of the memory-

Their breathing, hot against her bare skin, the cruel, mocking laughter, and of course, the rage and shame at having been stripped of her virginity against her will – all of it, as fresh and clear as if it had happened just yesterday.

And with it came the burden – the terrible, unyielding, unbearable weight of the loss settling upon her, bending her down with its crushing, crushing weight, sapping her of her energy, her strength, her life. The burden could not have been more physical had she been chained to a solid, cast-iron ball and forced to drag it behind her as she walked.

"Amelia!" A cheerful voice pierced the cloud of self that had wreathed her, causing her to look up at Neimi, who was fast approaching. As she watched, her friend waved at her, a cheery smile on her face.

In her more candid moments, Amelia might have confessed that she really _did_ need people who both understood and respected her pain, and yet could still keep an upbeat and cheerful countenance. Right now, however, she wanted Neimi to go away.

Of course, that wasn't going to happen. The pink-haired girl approached her. "Amelia? I was going to town, and I wondered if… well, I thought you might like to come along. What do you say? Sound good?" Try as Neimi might, she couldn't keep the hopefulness – desperation? – from her voice.

"…" Briefly, Amelia sifted through her responses. She _could_ just say no, and for a moment she wavered upon the edge of doing just that. After all, even if she _did_ go, she knew enough to know that she'd make poor company. Neimi was probably doing this just to cheer her up, after all…

"All right." She heard her voice say the words of affirmation, though she wasn't aware of having spoken them. Neimi's smile became relieved.

"Okay! Let's go, then!"

* * *

The midday streets of the Renais' capital were crowded, as usual. As Neimi made her way through the streets, she could feel Amelia's behind her, following her like a shadow.

Neimi pursed her lips. Knowing Amelia – or at least, Amelia as she used to be – she'd have questioned Neimi on the particulars of their expedition by now. She could picture Amelia, head cocked to one side, that quizzical smile on her face. "So, did you have anything specific in mind, or…?"

Now, just silence. Risking a glance over her shoulder, Neimi saw Amelia, her gaze firmly fixated on the ground, following Neimi's footsteps.

The archer swallowed as she continued threading her way through the crowds. She couldn't be absolutely sure, of course – but she couldn't help but wonder if she was currently making a big mistake by what she was doing.

"Amelia?" She spoke up a trifle hesitantly. The lancer didn't even seem to realize she'd been addressed for a moment, then she glanced up, looking into Neimi's eyes with a curiously blank expression.

"I, uh, actually, I heard about a baker near the next corner – they say he makes some of the best michew pies around. I thought… I thought you'd like to go check it out."

The shadow of a smile appeared on Amelia's face, and she nodded. "That'd be nice." She said softly.

Feeling slightly buoyed by the encouraging sign, Neimi turned and continued weaving through the faceless mass around her.

* * *

She accepted the neatly wrapped piece of pastry from the vendor as Neimi paid him. While Neimi procured her own food, Amelia hesitantly tore off a piece of the food with her teeth.

Yes, she had to admit, it _was_ good – a far cry from the stale rations that were doled out to soldiers of Renais as part of their daily provisions.

She took another bite, chewing slowly to savour the sweetness of the michew berries. Beside her, Neimi offered her a grin. "Not bad, huh?"

"It's good." Amelia replied. Silently, she continued to eat.

"Say, Amelia?"

She looked at Neimi.

"I, uh… Amelia, do you want to come over to my place for a while? We could…" Neimi shrugged. "I don't know. Hang out. Annoy Colm a bit." Neimi swallowed. "It won't – it won't do you any good to just stay cooped up in your room."

Of course. An obvious ploy to get her to come out, stop nursing her hurts, act like everything was all right… as was asking her out to town in the first place, of course.

"Thanks, but… no." Amelia shook her head. "Maybe some other time."

"Oh… I – uh, okay." Neimi's disappointment was written all over her face. "Maybe next time. You want me to – um, do you need me to accompany you back to the castle?"

_For my sake… or for your's?_ Amelia let that question go unspoken. "No need, Neimi. I can…" She swallowed past the tightness in the throat. "I can take care of myself."

Turning away, she hurried back in the direction of the castle, her pie forgotten.

* * *

"Franz."

He turned to see General Seth. Instantly, he straightened, saluting. "Sir."

"At ease." The Silver Knight paused in front of Franz. "Franz… about Dame Amelia's condition…"

"…"

"She attends our drills and training sessions faithfully, that much I cannot fault her for. However…" The General sighed. "However, her discipline and performance are slipping dangerously below acceptable levels."

"Amelia's a good fighter – you _know_ she is, General Seth, you've seen her on the field," Franz defended her hotly. "She's just shaken up from being assaulted by those lowlifes!"

"Naturally." Seth nodded. "And we've done our level best not to pile too much pressure on her throughout. However, it's been nigh on four months and Dame Amelia has not… shown any signs that she is recovering from her shock." The General drew a deep breath, possibly steeling himself for his next words. "If Amelia cannot meet the standards of the Renais Army, then she is to be dismissed from active service."

Franz wished desperately that he could turn away and continue staring out the window, but of course protocol prevented that. He drew in a shaky breath. "And you want me to tell her," he said softly. "That she is about to lose her livelihood, her dream, her _future_, because four months ago she was violated by three walking pieces of swamp-water scum?"

"Franz, you know as well as I do that it is not the rape that is the source of the trouble here." Seth's expression hardened. "Her mental state, her inability to cope with the trouble, _that_ is the root of the issue."

"So where does that leave her, General?" Franz's voice nearly cracked with restraint. "Like you said, she's trying her damnedest to cope with what happened to her – now she's about to lose her livelihood as well? Is this what Renais does for the broken? Those who cannot fend for themselves any longer are to be cast out into the darkness?"

Franz wasn't blind – he could see the anguish in her mentor's eyes as clearly as anyone. But then, he wasn't made Commander of the Renais Knights for nothing. His voice remained resolute. "I – _we_ – are all prepared to aid her in any way we can outside of the sphere of our careers. But, and I say this bluntly, if Amelia is not fit for service amongst the soldiers of Renais, then I cannot allow her to remain within the army. Don't think I don't know that you've been going out of your way to clean up after her, Franz. It's been affecting your own performance as well."

Franz bit his lip so hard he was certain he could taste blood. With a "By your leave,' he turned, rushing out of the room as fast as his legs would carry him.

* * *

Her training for the day completed, Amelia returned quietly to her room.

As she rounded the corner towards the simple wooden door, she saw that it had been left slightly ajar. As she walked up to it and pushed it open, she saw Franz in her room, staring at the far wall.

She also noted her bed had been made once again, her room straightened out. Franz, of course. Always Franz.

At the sound of the door opening, he turned to face Amelia – and she saw immediately that his face was a mask of worry.

"Franz?" She questioned softly, unsure of what was going on.

"Amelia," he stood and walked over to her. "There's something I need to tell you."

"…" She crossed her arms, silently wondering about the possibilities.

She did not have to wonder long. Franz took a deep breath, letting it all come out in a rush. "General Seth thinks your performance isn't up to par, that you're not fit for continued service in Renais. If you don't improve, and soon, he's going to dismiss you from the army."

Amelia heard the words, but somehow they failed to register in her for several long seconds, and so she continued to stare blankly at Franz.

He looked to the ground, shaking his head. "Amelia, I know it's hard for you – but please! You _have_ to pull yourself together – or else you'll end up cashiered. Please, please try to move beyond what happened."

She could feel a tremor shooting through her body, and her face tightened. "You make it sound so easy." She snapped bitterly. "You don't know what it's like! You don't understand!"

Insane. Franz wanted nothing more than to help her. Why was she snapping at him, turning upon the one person who cared for her most? She didn't know, and her frustration and anger at not knowing boiled over into yet more grief. Yet more rage.

"Amelia, you're right. I don't understand. I _can't_ understand." Franz said softly, his shoulders slumping. "I'll probably never be able to, and I have no right to act like I do. But this doesn't change the fact that-"

"Shut up! I don't need you to tell me what to do!" She exploded, her nerves too frayed to restrain herself. "You think I don't know what's happened? You think I haven't been trying to pick up the pieces of my life? How dare you-"

"Amelia!" Franz cut in. "Of course I know! But I'm just telling you that it isn't _enough_!"

"And so what do you want me to do?" She cried, reaching up and grabbing Franz roughly by the shoulders. "What do you think I _should_ do, huh? You're so smart, you can just _tell_ me!"

"Stop it, Amelia!" Obviously growing more agitated himself, he shook himself free of her. "You're not behaving normally."

"Normally? Normally!" She flung it back at it face, barbs of stinging venom. "Of course I haven't! _Nothing_ in my life has been normal since that day! Why should I behave 'normally' when the rest of my world isn't normal?"

"And how long are you going to let that one incident imprison you? For the rest of your life?" Franz countered angrily, before his tone softened somewhat. "Amelia, I don't want to see you like this."

The bitter, caustic words were out of her mouth, posionous arrows being flung, before she could stop herself. "Then maybe you should have made your oh-so heroic rescue a bit _earlier_, huh?"

The words hit Franz like a physical blow. He stepped back, aghast, staring at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. His hand clenched and unclenched themselves into fists several times.

The next time he spoke, it was in a low, measured tone, as if he were trying desperately not to let his emotions out. "I'll come and check on you in the morning." Then he was gone.

Alone in her room, Amelia collapsed onto her bed, buried her face into her pillow, and didn't move for a very long time.

* * *

"I'm – I'm sure she didn't mean it." Though Natasha tried to keep a smile on her face, Franz could tell that she was just as distraught as he was.

"Maybe she didn't… and maybe she should have." Franz closed his eyes and sighed as he leaned back in the pew. _It's not like the thought hasn't stayed with me all this while. If I could have been just a bit faster, tracked them better… I could have stopped all of this. Amelia would still be smiling, and none of us would be stuck dealing with this mess._

"Franz!" Natasha's voice cut through his musings. "I've told you this before – you can't blame yourself for any of this. It was those men who erred, who fell into sin. You arrived, you saved Amelia and did what you could for her."

"And of course, that's one of the trouble with a 'past'." Franz said without opening his eyes. "I 'did what I could'. That's the question, Natasha. If things had been otherwise, could I have done _more_?" He breathed out. "Even – even if Amelia _does_ recover, it's going to haunt me for a long, long time."

Natasha sighed. "About Amelia…"

"Yes, about her." Franz leaned forward. "Her mood swings, her outbursts… Natasha, I don't _know_ how to deal with this. I can't talk to her, I can't connect with her at all. I don't know what to do." The last statement was an admission of what everyone knew but refused to say. What could they do? How could they help Amelia? What could they say?

After a long moment of silence, Franz raised his head and gazed at Natasha. "Natasha, I… I'm not a theologian. I don't know the Holy Books well. I need to ask you honestly… does God say anything about this? Does He give an answer for times when…" he closed his eyes. "When you don't have any idea what to do?"

Natasha was silent for a long moment. Franz suspected he could guess why. Natasha loved to talk about the Everlasting of his grace and mercy and love, and to an extent he liked hearing about them. But right now… in the moment of real pain, real hurt, all those neatly memorized catechisms seemed so dull and dry and useless.

She sighed. "Franz, you know the Holy Texts have always placed a greater emphasis on the state of our soul than our bodies and wills." She paused. "They say that he has prepared a place in Paradise for us, that he provides and looks to our needs, that his angels watch over us in our lives. We have everything we need for joy, if only we focus on Him instead of the problems that loom ahead of us."

"For all I know, it _is_ Divine Truth, Natasha." He slammed a fist against the polished wood of his seat. "But that doesn't help me or Amelia in the least." _Right now, they just seem like nothing more than neatly memorized phrases meant to explain away all of life's problems._

"I understand. Franz… And I need you to understand something. The emotions you feel now, the anguish, the despair… the words I told you were not meant to assuage that flood."

Surprised, he glanced up at Natasha, a biting question already on his lips. If they couldn't stop the hopelessness, then what good were they?

Natasha must have seen Franz's expression, for she shook her head. "Franz… wisdom is like a rock in the middle of the mighty river of your soul. When trouble comes and your emotions surge like a rising flood, the rock cannot stop it, cannot stem the flow nor calm the river. It was never intended to.

"The rock is a place for you to hold on. The words of wisdom were plunged deep into the strata of time past – they were there long before your anguish rose – and they'll be there long after. The flood _will_ ebb eventually. All floods do. But if you have nothing to cling on to while it still rages, then it can overwhelm you.

"Cling on to those rocks, Franz. Dig your nails into them and don't let go."

Franz paused. "Natasha… you say that in the Everlasting, we have everything we need for joy."

"Yes."

"Then…" He bowed his head. "Then why? Why did he allow something like this to happen? The Holy Men say that He knows all, and surely if He did, He could have stopped something like this, couldn't He?"

Natasha sighed. "Do you _really_ want me to start a debate with you on this, Franz? It's not going to make either of us feel any better."

"Neither does knowing that a powerful, supposedly loving God who could have done something to help was sitting on his thumbs while Amelia was getting raped by three degenerates." Franz snorted. "The only possible reason I can see for him allowing something like this to happen is that he knew that it would ultimately turn out for the best. But I don't see how _anything_ good could come from this whole mess."

Abruptly, Natasha stood and began walking away. Startled, Franz gazed up at her departing figure. "Natasha?"

"Just a moment, Franz." She replied, mind obviously elsewhere. As she spoke, she vanished into a backroom that Franz had never entered before.

A few seconds later she reemerged, clutching something hidden in the folds of her robe. To Franz's questioning gaze she merely smiled.

"I have something to show you." She said softly as she walked up to him.

* * *

The moon's arc over the darkened land was slow and graceful. Or at least, Amelia suspected it was. It was a cloudy night, and the gentle light of the moon was all but hidden.

Appropriate, she thought, for most of the lights in her world appeared out of her reach as well.

As Amelia sat there, silent. Chasing down sleep had been a futile endeavour for her, and besides, sleep would bring neither comfort nor rest – merely more of the endless nightmares.

She sat there, her mind whirling, replaying over and over the last conversation she had had with Franz earlier that day.

The hands curled into claws, digging keep into her thighs as she kept herself curled up, pondering the ramifications of what she'd done.

She hated the men who'd done this to her. Hated them from the bottom of her heart. But she could not release her rage against them, could not expend her fury on vengeance. So the burning fire in her heart had continued to surge, unabated, until it had spilled over, causing her to lash out at – of all people! – Franz.

Franz, who had done her nothing but good ever since she'd first met him. Franz, who had looked to her needs and wants daily without complaint. Franz, who'd been the one to rescue her in the first place!

Franz.

"I'm sorry, Franz." She whispered to the night sky. "I'm so sorry."

She'd hurt him. She'd done nothing _but_ hurt him. She'd been a burden to him. She'd been a burden to everyone. Everyone was going out of their way not to upset or distress her.

And all she could do in return was sit silently, staring at nothingness.

As if in response to her gloomy mood, the heavens decided to open up, sending a roaring downpour that drenched the young lancer through in a matter of seconds. The chill of rain twisted its way through her sinews, leaving her shivering.

And as bad as that was, it still couldn't compare with the chill that clung tightly to her soul.

Strange how burning rage and cold emptiness could exist so close to one another, she thought.

If Franz caught sight of her now, he'd drag her indoors, tell her to change into dry clothing, probably go to get a warm meal for her, and stay by her side until he was absolutely certain she wasn't going to fall sick.

Slowly, she turned and headed indoors.

Enough was enough. After today, she wouldn't be a burden to him… to _anyone_, anymore.

* * *

Carrying a bag of food, Franz approached Amelia's room with trepidation. He still wasn't sure if she had fully calmed down from her outburst last night.

Pausing before knocking, he mentally rehearsed what he wanted to say to her. _It'll be all right, Amelia, I promise. Look, my pay's not that much, but I'm sure that we can stretch it enough to still cover for you. Natasha's also promised to help us any way she can. It'll be all right._

_It'll be all right._ He sighed. He'd been repeating that same mantra, both to her and himself, for the past four months.

Pushing, the door open, he stepped inside. "Amelia? I've brought you break… fast…" His voice trailed off as he noted, much to his dismay, that Amelia was nowhere to be seen.

Quickly, his eyes scanned the room. The bed… it hadn't been slept in. His gut twisted.

Setting the meal down on the desk, he quickly turned and left the room.

* * *

In what would perhaps the universe's last act of kicking her while she was down, the rain continued unabated throughout the entirety of her walk. The worn cloak she had thrown around her thin frame – itself a gift from Franz a long time ago – was of barely any use. The chill pierced deep into her bone, and she'd never believed that line about teeth actually chattering - until now.

The sun had risen, though still trapped behind a thick veil of clouds, such that the entire place seemed uniformly grey and dull.

It had been several hours since she'd set out, and the lack of sleep was beginning to tell on her. She stumbled and weaved as she walked, trying her best not to fall over. But she continued to trudge forward mechanically, putting one foot ahead of the other.

Finally, over the sound of the thundering rain, she heard her target.

The Tigris River, swollen as it was with the rainstorm, had become a raging torrent. Over the countless years it had worn down the land it traveled, so that there now existed a substantial cliff where the land ended, overlooking the raging river below. Even a strong swimmer would be hard-taxed to survive in the raging torrent.

Amelia was not a strong swimmer.

She could see the edge now. Just a few more seconds… a few more moments…

"AMELIA!" The cry was strong enough to be heard over the thunderstorm.

Turning, Amelia caught sight of a rapidly approaching figure. She closed her eyes.

Finally, Franz was within earshot, and he halted, staring at her as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He hadn't even thrown on a cloak, obviously rushing out here as fast as he could as soon as he'd heard from the watch-guards that she had headed in this direction.

"You've a real penchant for showing up at critical moments, you know that?" There it was. Her hateful bitterness, directed at the one who deserved it least.

"Amelia… what are you doing?"

_Ending it all. Forever. No more pain. No more anguish. No more being a burden to you, Franz. No more._ Choosing not to answer, she turned away and took another step closer to the edge.

"Amelia!"

Finally, she turned, looking Franz in the eye, trying to smile. "Don't worry, Franz. It'll be over soon. You won't need to worry about me anymore."

"What? Amelia, are you crazy?" Quickly, he took two steps towards her before halting. The look in his eyes was torn.

She took another deep breath. "This is for the better, isn't it, Franz? My life… it barely even deserves that name anymore, doesn't it? It's really not worth slogging through all this misery any longer. And I've been a burden to you for far too long."

"Amelia…" Franz still seemed torn – as if every fibre of his being wanted to stop her, but he was patently unsure _how_. If he tried to rush her, she could jump off the edge long before he could reach her.

"I've tried, Franz. I've honestly tried." She closed her eyes, taking a deep and calming breath. "But it's not working. Not a bit. I can't just keep running in circles forever."

"So you're just going to run away?" Franz demanded, angry and fearful at the same time. "What about me, Amelia? What about Neimi and Ewan and Ross and Natasha and Colm? Don't you care about me? About us?"

"Of course I do!" She had been shivering from the rain. Now she trembled from anxiety. "And I've just sapped your time, your energy, and given nothing back in return." She paused, her breathing ragged. "Don't try to talk me out of this."

Franz paused, and as he did, Amelia turned around, taking two more steps to the very edge of the cliff, praying silently. _Don't let my resolve fail. Just let it last a bit longer – let me do it before my courage fades, and I get trapped in an empty world again._

Then she heard his voice, clear and resolute across the driving rain.

"Fine! Jump if you want, Amelia, but know this – if you do, then I'm coming after you, to get you out of there."

Her heart skipped a beat. Both of them knew that there was no way Franz could possibly rescue her from the raging torrent – he wouldn't even be able to save himself if he were to dive in. And even without looking at him, she knew him well enough to know that he meant every word.

If she died, so would he.

The bitterness within her rose again. Then let him jump! That was his own choice, as this was hers. Why should she change her mind over this?

Because, she answered herself, all that would do would be simply to place her in the part of forcing yet another burden upon one who had taken up too many of them already. And she knew that there was no way she could play any part, no matter how indirect, in Franz's death.

She took her first, shaky step backwards, away from the ledge.

Then another.

And another.

And then she sunk to her knees, curling over, sobbing, letting the tears flow and merge, indistinguishable, with the raindrops that pelted her face.

"You bastard." She choked out as she felt him walking up to her. "You absolute bastard. You couldn't just let me die in peace, could you."

"Never." His voice was strong, as were his arms as he pulled her to her feet, slowly leading her away. "I'm not going to give up on you, even if you have."

She made no further reply, merely dug her head into his shoulder as they walked away.

* * *

"I don't know… I guess you could call it an epiphany." Amelia said softly as she sat up in her bed, drinking slowly from the steaming mug in her hands.

"Mm." Neimi nodded from her position at the bed, silently encouraging her friend to further elaborate.

"I felt so guilty… guilty that I was too weak to pull myself together, guilty that I burdened all of you, guilty that I…" She closed her eyes. "So I thought that if I could end everything, I wouldn't be a burden anymore."

"Amelia, that's ridiculous." Neimi reached over to grab Amelia's hand in her own. "You'll never be a burden to us."

"Yeah, Franz told me the same thing." Amelia quirked the barest smile before sneezing violently. When she'd calmed down again, she stared down at the mug.

"It was… it wasn't until I heard Franz yell that he would come after me if I jumped in, when I heard him yell that he was basically going to commit suicide, that I realized…" Her grip on her mug tightened. "I realized the whole reason all of you were putting so much backbreaking effort into looking after me was because you believed I could pull through. If I'd just ended it there, I'd be throwing away everything all of you worked for."

"So Franz's gamble worked, didn't it." Neimi said softly.

"A gamble?" Amelia shook her head. "He had every intention of doing what he said, and _that_ was what shook me enough to stop me." She closed her eyes, sighed. "The only way I can make sure you haven't poured everything down the drain is to survive. I _will_ live on. I _will_ recover. I don't know exactly how, but…" She chuckled slightly. "That's a promise."

"Did Amelia just laugh?" Franz questioned as he sat up from his bed beside hers. "I haven't that sound in… well, it seems like forever."

"Shush, you." Natasha said as she gently pushed him back into a prone position. "What _were_ you thinking, rushing out there without even a cloak? You're in an even worse state than Amelia now!"

"I'd wager that he _wasn't_ thinking." Amelia said dryly as she lifted the cup to her lips and took another sip from it.

"Smiling, laughing, and now making cracks against Franz?" Neimi's smile widened. "It's good to have the old Amelia back. It really is."

At that, Amelia's smile faded. "The old Amelia _isn't_ back. I don't think she ever will be." She closed her eyes and leaned back. "I just hope that the new Amelia is strong enough so that what destroyed the old Amelia isn't enough to destroy her."

"It sounds like you thought this out pretty well."

Amelia paused. "For a while, I still thought that I hated Franz for what he did. For the choice he forced to make. It was only after a while that I realized that by forcing me to make a decision, he'd made one himself already. He wasn't willing to let me die… even to the point where he…" She halted, overcome with emotion. Finally she looked over to where he was lying down, eyes closed, face flushed, breathing heavy.

"Franz…" She said softly. He didn't respond immediately, but then his eyes cracked open slightly and he turned to face her. "Thank you." She whispered. "Thank you so much."

* * *

"Mornin', Amelia." Colm said.

"Did you sleep well?" Neimi asked cheerfully as she stumbled into the dining area.

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Amelia yawned, nodded, and managed a brief smile. "No nightmares."

"Great! I guess it _was_ a good idea for you to move in with us after leaving the Renais army."

Amelia's smile widened. "Staying in a room all by myself probably wasn't a very good thing. No matter how often Franz tried to come over, it just wasn't the same."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the front door, and Franz stepped in. "Hello, Neimi, Colm. Amelia! How are you?"

"I'm fine." She answered truthfully. "No nightmares last night."

Franz smiled. "Great. Here, I brought you this." He handed over a brown package to Amelia.

"Thanks. Uh… what's in there?"

"Well, Neimi gave me a tip on where to find some great michew pies, so…"

"What?" Neimi's head snapped up. "I just started baking some!"

There was a silence that settled over the four occupants, until Amelia broke it with a peal of laughter and took one of the pies from the package and bit into it, chewing with relish.

"I suppose it's a very good thing that all of us really love michew pies then, isn't it?" She asked?

Neimi and Franz glanced at each other, then a shrug and both of them reached for the package.

* * *

"Amelia?"

"Mm?" She glanced up, smiling sleepily. "I fell asleep, huh?"

"Yeah." Franz nodded as he leaned back, the remains of their picnic meal safely stowed away. "Just thought you wouldn't want to miss out on the chance for some stargazing. That's why you wanted to come out here, after all, wasn't it?"

She nodded gratefully and gazed up at the heavens. "It's beautiful."

They continued in this manner for several moments, until Franz heard Amelia sigh. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. Just that… you had to take leave from the army to bring me out here. Your pay will get docked, won't it?"

"I suspect it will." Franz shrugged. "It's not the first time it's happened."

"I know, and that's the point." She gazed at Franz. "Even on the occasions where you get paid less, the allowance you pass to me is always the same amount. What about you?"

He shook his head. "Amelia, that's really not a big deal. I'm fine with going on thinner meals once in a while."

"Well, _I'm_ not." Amelia huffed and shifted her direction to face Franz. "I can't help but feel guilty that you're sacrificing yourself for my sake."

Franz laughed. "Strong, independent Amelia. Always worried when someone goes out of his or her way to help you. You haven't changed a bit." Then he sighed. "Actually… I was thinking about our future."

Amelia glanced at him inquisitively.

"Amelia… I don't know what my future will bring. I just know that I want to spend it with you. We've known each other for two and a half years by now. And I love you. Would you…" He swallowed. "Amelia, will you marry me?"

Amelia hesitated. "Franz, how long did you spend planning this speech?"

"Huh? Oh, about… uh, two months." Franz frowned. "Wait a minute… don't tell me you knew I was going to ask you?"

"I had a hunch." Amelia looked down at her hands. "Look, Franz. I'm sorry if I'm ruining this great romantic moment you had all planned out. But I just don't feel comfortable with those things." She paused and gazed deep into his eyes. "I'll marry you, Franz."

Franz smiled in return, then leaned over and kissed her. When they broke away again, he chuckled. "I suppose that went as smoothly as could be hoped."

"Oh, I don't know. You could have pulled out a ring or something and offered it to me."

"Oh, right." Franz held out a tiny band of silver, and Amelia extended her hand to allow it to be slipped onto her finger.

"I suppose now we can start worrying about our finances together."

At that she did laugh, and she leaned against his chest, closing her eyes, letting out a contented sigh.

* * *

Amelia staggered back, taking a deep breath. "No…" She whispered to herself. "Not now. Not like this. No."

But the images came unabated. As if she were trapped in some sort of horrible time warp, the images that had tormented her one and half years ago came to her again, reminding her of that sick dread, the horror, the pain.

Gritting her teeth, she did her best to banish these memories. They had no place here. Franz – her _husband_ – was nothing like those monsters.

The consummation of their marriage would be nothing like that. It wouldn't. It _couldn't_.

Shaken by the images, she settled on the bed, taking deep steady breaths.

Silently, she wondered if Franz would notice her discomfort, her distress during copulation. Most probably, she told herself. That didn't leave her with many alternatives, then.

Just then, the door to the room openly silently, and Franz entered. "Amelia?" He questioned. "Are you… look, I have to ask you something."

Walking up to her and crouching in front of her, he took her hand in his own and looked up into her eyes. "Amelia, are you still uncomfortable at the thought of me making love to you?"

She bit her lip, and squeezed her eyes shut, feeling hot tears leak out. _So he could tell, even before he started!_ She nodded tightly. "Gave myself away during the wedding, didn't I?" She muttered.

A moment later, Franz embraced Amelia. "Amelia… I just want you to know and remember – I don't love you for your body. I love you for who you are. I'll wait, Amelia… until the time comes when you're ready." He kissed her briefly on the cheek and leaned away.

Amelia's hand went to her cheek as she felt the warmth left by Franz's lips. Then she blew out a breath of air. "Now."

"What?"

"I'm ready now, Franz." She smiled up at him.

"But…"

"If I keep waiting until a day that I feel ready, I never will be." She paused. "Franz, the memories resurfacing today just tells me I can't bury it and hope that it'll fade away. Either I face them… or they'll continue to dog me for the rest of my life." Standing she moved herself close to Franz, close enough that she could feel his breath on her lips. "I'm ready."

She saw Franz nod almost imperceptibly, and then she felt his hand at the back of her head, pulling her closer for a very long kiss.

* * *

"_Something to show me?"_

"_And something to tell you." Natasha chuckled. "Object lessons were usually used in classes for the children – it's a good way for them to relate." Pausing, she held out a hand. "Here, Franz."_

_It was a simple drinking cup, made of glass. It gleamed in the faint light as he held it in his hand, turning it over slightly. Not seeing anything of particular significance to the cup, he gazed at Natasha curiously._

_Her shook her head. "Look closer."_

_Curious, Franz brought the cup closer to his eyes, trying to spot what it was that Natasha wanted to show him. Then he saw it._

_Cracks._

_Tiny snaking lines that webbed their way all over the tiny vessel. As he turned the cup over in his hands once more, he couldn't begin to surmise the immense number of shards it had to have formed upon breaking._

"_Once, when I was but a child, that cup was broken. The priests wrote it off as not being much of a loss, for it was a plain, ordinary cup, easily replaced. But amongst their congregation was a master craftsman, and he volunteered to repair the cup. He spent a week simply gathering up the pieces. Then he took them to his home, and shortly after they forgot about him." Natasha paused. "Then, one day, he returned, bearing in his hands the cup. Every single piece restored. The entire thing made as good as new again. A true marvel, if there ever was one."_

_Franz gazed down at the cup._

"_It started out as something ordinary, though useful. But through being broken and remade, despite how long it took, it became far more precious, far more valuable._

"_I'm not wise enough to know just what your bond with Amelia is like, Franz. But I can tell it has been frayed, strained to its absolute breaking point. But if you can patch it together again…the bond, remade, renewed… it will be something far more precious and beautiful than what was there before."_

"_That I can promise you."

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**Story End

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Thank you for reading. Please review.


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